


Lovers and Liars

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Pre-Bartlet For America, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: CJ's thirtieth birthday is not turning out very happy until she meets a handsome and interesting man at a hotel bar. A handsome, interesting, and married man.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Very busy day today, and wow am I slipping this one in just under the wire! It's not midnight yet in central time though, and that's what counts! This story is from a prompt by Anonymous who asked for: “How exactly did it go down between Hoynes and CJ?” There was a bit more to the prompt, but the rest of it is another story. Hope you all enjoy!

Claudia took a seat at the hotel bar, mostly just to rest her aching feet. She considered the whiskey sour to be an acceptable price of admission for ten minutes off the poorly chosen heels she'd gotten to match this suit. It had been obvious from the beginning they were a size too small (many shoes were; most women were not as tall as her), but they'd been the right color and they'd been on sale. At the time, she'd been pleased with the bargain, now she was planning to set them on fire. When this drink was finished, she promised herself, she'd go back into the fundraiser and continue schmoozing potential donors on behalf of EMILY's List. The world wouldn't be half so screwed up if more women got into politics, but damned if it wasn't a pain in the ass getting them there. She'd been working for the List for a year already, figured after working for one successful city campaign in San Francisco and one failed Senate campaign in New York that maybe a lobbying group was the way to go. Already she was so sick of politics, she could vomit. 

She tossed back half her drink in one swallow and thought maybe she'd have a second one after all, maybe it would make the evening more bearable. They were serving free champagne in the ballroom, but Claudia wasn't much of a champagne girl except on New Years. Other holidays called for different celebrations. “It's my birthday,” she told the bartender when he came over to fix her another drink. “I'm getting old.” 

The bartender, who was in his sixties if he were a day, gave her a dubious look, but just said “Happy birthday.” He didn't understand, though. Claudia was thirty now, her youth over, her job stultifying, no hobbies, romance nowhere on the horizon. She didn't even have a cat, and if she did it would probably be dead because she traveled so much. At this point she didn't even know what to do with her hair, let alone her life. Maybe she should go blonde and move to California, become an unusually tall California beach blonde. Her tits weren't exactly impressive, but she had great legs, and those were important too. Could people become professional beach blondes, even in California? Probably not, and with her luck it would only lead to skin cancer. Her brothers had both been married at her age, and they seemed happy. Men had it so much easier. They got all the fucking Senate seats, too. 

She was brooding into her glass when someone came up next to her at the bar. Claudia smelled tasteful cologne and a faint whiff of dry-cleaning chemicals. That seemed safe enough, so she turned her head to evaluate the newcomer sitting next to her. He was someone from the fundraiser; she recognized him vaguely but couldn't quite place him. A politician, then, or a wealthy businessman most likely. His suit definitely said success, and the rest of him just said mmmmm. Or maybe that was her. 

The bartender came up to take his order. “I'll have an Arnold Palmer, and get the lady another of whatever she's having.” He turned to smile at her, and the smile was very nice indeed. “It's only right that somebody should treat you on your birthday.” There was a slight southern twang in his voice, one that he was probably doing his best to train out. It suited him, though. 

“I appreciate that,” she told him, offering him a small smile. So far he wasn't setting off any asshole alerts, but you never could tell with guys in bars. “I'm Claudia.” 

“Happy birthday, Claudia,” he replied, rolling the name around in his mouth just a little. “I'm John. You're with EMILY's List, aren't you?” 

“I am,” she agreed with a nod. “So you're here for the fundraiser? Who are you with?” 

“The United States Government, god help me.” He lifted his glass to her. “I'm a big fan of your group, they've done a lot of good in getting more women into politics. Have you been working with Sarah Turner in the Texas sixth?” 

“A little bit,” Claudia confirmed, touching her glass to his. “Also Andrea Wyatt in the Maryland fifth and Teresa Abbot-Grant in the Illinois second.” 

“Sarah's a friend of mine, she'll be an excellent Congresswoman,” John told her. 

Claudia raised her eyebrows. “You're not a congressman, are you?” she asked with good-humored suspicion. “I don't recognize everybody at these things yet.” 

“I used to be,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Running for office every two years is brutal. It's like trying to govern the country from a hamster wheel. What do you do with EMILY's List?” 

“Public Relations and media messaging,” Claudia told him, taking just a sip of her second drink. She was relaxed but not sloppy now, and that was a good way to be. This fundraiser was definitely looking up, anyway. 

“Ah, so that was you with the bread commercial?” he asked with every evidence of real interest. “That was innovative. I think it got a lot of people's attention.” 

“It was,” she replied, flattered. “Every idea goes through a lot of workshopping, obviously, but that one was my baby.” They talked for a little while longer as they both nursed their beverages, touching on politics, but also on music and movies and old television shows, things Claudia never got a chance to talk about anymore. So much of her life was work and politics these days, maybe that's why it was starting to grate so much. Before she knew it, half an hour had passed, and both of them were finished with their drinks.

“I should go back in there,” John admitted with another flash of that killer grin, “but I'd really rather not. Can I take you to dinner?” 

Claudia considered this for a moment. Accepting a drink and having a nice conversation was one thing, going to dinner with a man was potentially signing on for a fair bit more. She glanced down at his left hand, wrapped around his near empty glass. No ring, but the skin on that finger had a light-colored patch and a slight indentation to it. Maybe he was a recent divorcee and didn't want to talk about it. There was also the fact that she really didn't want to go back into the fundraiser either. “Dinner sounds nice,” she told him. “Where at?” 

“I know a place,” he assured her. “It's just a few blocks from here, we can walk it.”

Claudia hid her wince at the thought, figuring that her feet were already disfigured to fit the shape of her shoes, a little more walking wouldn't hurt. “Sounds good to me.” They walked side by side down the well-lit street, not holding hands or anything like that, but brushing shoulders every so often. He'd been in Washington for awhile, what with the Congressional gig and all, she supposed, and he knew a lot about the neighborhood and the buildings they were passing. He spoke broadly, gesturing often with his hands like he was accustomed to making speeches. They were approaching the restaurant when she finally thought to ask, “So if you were a Congressman, and you're still with the government, what do you do now?” 

His smile was just a little sardonic. “I decided six-year terms were a lot more appealing than two. They call me the gentleman from Texas these days.” 

The light bulb finally went on, belatedly enough that Claudia wondered if she were losing her mental acuity already. Was thirty really the beginning of the end? “You're John Hoynes.” He nodded. She stopped walking. “That means you're married.” 

He stopped too, looked down and away. “Technically, yes,” he admitted quietly. “It wouldn't be politically prudent for me to get divorced, despite the fact that she and I have little in common anymore. Suzanne enjoys being a senator's wife, if nothing else. She's... well, she's found someone else, very quietly, and I just don't go home much these days.” It could've been a line, but he looked so honestly sad that she found it hard to disbelieve him. And besides, she was thirty today, and the alternative was going back to her hotel room and ordering room service. “Living in hotels gets very isolating after awhile. I'm sorry if I led you on-” 

“No,” she cut in, taking a half-step towards him, “that's all right. I do a lot of living in hotel rooms too, I know how it gets.” She smiled. “Besides, I'm still pretty hungry, and I've walked all this way on these shoes.” 

“I'm sorry, I didn't think.” He smiled back, boyish and relieved. “I should've called us a cab. But you do look amazing, if that's any consolation.” 

“Some,” Claudia allowed with a low chuckle. She took his arm and let him escort her into the restaurant. It was a small place, half a dozen booths and half a dozen tables, but it was quiet and private, with soft jazz music playing over speakers and a very appetizing smell in the air. John's discreet handshake with the maitre'd got them a booth in a secluded corner, so private it may as well have been in another room. When she ordered wine he ordered sparkling water, explaining that the tannins in the wine gave him headaches, but that didn't make him any less engaging a dinner companion. 

Over dinner, talk turned to families and childhoods, not his immediate family, obviously, but the families they'd grown up in. John was nine years older than her and had grown up in a wealthy Texas family, so their experiences were a lot different, but he also had older brothers and a father with high expectations, and those were points of commonality. She found herself telling him things she didn't usually tell people about, certainly not people she'd just met. Things like how her mom had died when she was a kid, and how sometimes it made her feel like she had missed out on all the things that mothers are supposed to teach their daughters, and how sometimes she wasn't sure that politics was a good fit for her, but her degrees were suited to politics or entertainment and she didn't think she was cut out for Hollywood. He was a really good listener, attentive and focused, the sort who seemed like he was really paying attention. CJ couldn't help but think that if he could tune that talent for a wider audience, he must be a hell of a politician. 

They lingered over coffee and dessert till the restaurant was closing, finally heading out to the street at nearly 11pm to catch a cab back to the event hotel. John had the cab drop them off at a side door rather than in the busy front lobby, pointing out that there'd almost certainly still be fundraiser attendees hanging around, but they'd probably be drunk by now. CJ had to agree with the assessment. They stopped in a small, out of the way elevator lobby.

“I'm on the first floor,” she told him with a half-smile. “We get a lot done at EMILY's List, but we don't spring for fancy on these trips. I was just happy not to get booked into a Motel 6. So I guess this is goodnight.” 

John stepped in closer to her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him all over her skin, though they weren't actually touching. He lifted a hand and very lightly traced her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat. “It's been a wonderful night,” he told her sincerely. “The best night I've had in a very long time. I'd like to ask you up for coffee, but I'd only be prevaricating.” His eyes held hers, leaving her helpless to look away. 

He was married, she reminded herself. Even if it was just on paper, even if his wife had been unfaithful first, it was still a marriage before God and she shouldn't be interfering with that. Her father had been loyal to her mother even as she'd spent two years wasting away to nothing, carrying her when she couldn't walk, washing her when she couldn't care for herself, finally feeding her and reading to her when she could no longer eat or focus her eyes. That was what CJ thought marriage ought to be, but this was the real world. Sometimes things didn't turn out that way, and sometimes people made mistakes in who they married. Her father had done that too, the second time around. Maybe John shouldn't have to keep paying and paying for one mistake. 

She barely knew him, she went on to remind herself. They'd been on one date, even if it had been five hours long. Claudia was not the sort of woman to have sex on the first date. But she was thirty years old today, and she was alone, and if she stepped back now, she'd go back to her hotel room and reconsider the wisdom of getting a cat or a fish to keep her company, and it was so damn pathetic she could cry. Maybe it was time to take a chance for once. “Well,” she said throatily, “Maybe I could just tell you I like coffee and we'll go from there.” He smiled and drew her in with the lightest touch of his hand on her face, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. As she stepped on the elevator with him, she felt a quick frisson of foreboding down her spine, but ignored it. What was life without a little risk? 

 

Claudia slept late, her usually reliable internal alarm clock foiled by blackout curtains and the lassitude of a long night without much sleep. She stretched and rolled over before realizing she was alone in bed and that for once she hadn't expected to be. Her muscles felt loose and well-used, and she was sure her hair was incredibly disordered. Being a senator obviously had its' privileges; John's room was a suite with a separate living area, and a very large bathtub she'd only caught a glimpse of the night before. She wondered if it would be awkward to ask if she could use it. She wondered if it might be fun to explore fitting two tall people into it. It sounded like John was on the phone in the other room, apparently not as sleepy as she'd been. Rolling to her feet, she wandered in that direction, figuring that the little kitchenette might even have coffee. 

She paused at the nearly-closed door, realizing belatedly that the conversation he was having might be confidential. Honestly she hadn't meant to listen in, it just happened. “You know how DC is, always the same boring march of fundraisers and meetings and people who love to hear the sound of their own voices. I can't tell you how much I miss being with you and the kids. I'm going to try and make it home next weekend, and maybe we can take them out to that trampoline park.” He listened for a minute and then laughed, that same sincere and happy laugh that had captivated Claudia last night. “I know, but if we endure it for the day, they'll be worn out by the time we get home, and we'll have the night all to ourselves.” Her breath caught in her throat as his voice dropped into a register she'd learned a lot about last night. “I think I might have mentioned how much I've missed you.” 

Claudia stumbled back from the door, not wanting to hear any more of that conversation. Grabbing up her discarded clothes, she carried them into the bathroom and dressed herself hastily, washing herself up with a washcloth but not wanting to take the time for a shower. She could see herself in the mirror as she dressed, rumpled and ridiculous, wearing a nighttime dress in the middle of the morning with no hose or makeup. She couldn't even wear the damn shoes, not with the blisters she'd raised on her heels from all the walking last night. It was easier to look at her legs than her face; she couldn't seem to look herself in the eye. 

John was just walking into the bedroom as she stepped out of the bathroom. He was carrying two mugs of coffee and looked surprised to see her out of bed. “Good morning, Claudia,” he said warmly. “I thought you were still-” 

“I heard you on the phone,” she told him flatly. “For what it's worth, I didn't mean to, and you hadn't even closed the door all the way so it wasn't even as though you did me the favor of concealing it, but in any case, I hope you don't plan on trying to tell me again about the wife who's moved on without you. And you never mentioned kids.” 

He looked disappointed, but that was all. How could he only look disappointed, not angry or ashamed or afraid or... something? It didn't seem right that he should be so calm when she felt like she was flying apart inside. “I'm sorry,” he told her, and it was the same sincere voice, the one she now knew for the lie it was. “I didn't mean for you to hear any of that. The situation is complicated-” 

“The situation is complicated by the fact that you're sleeping around on your wife,” she retorted, sick to her stomach. “I need to go.” 

“Claudia,” he said again, catching her arm as she began to move past him. His voice was harder now, a voice like a senator. “I don't think I need to tell you that discretion is required...” 

She laughed, or at least she thought it was a laugh. “Don't worry,” she spat. “As far as I'm concerned, this never, ever happened.” With her shoes in her hand and her ruined hosiery in her purse, she walked out of his hotel room and limped down the three flights of stairs to her own, disdaining the elevators for fear of running into anyone she knew. Fate was kind enough to spare her that much this morning, and she got back to her room with nobody the wiser.

Instantly she stripped off her dress and jumped into the shower, cursing herself for an idiot as she did her best to scrub the night away. She knew better, she knew so much better than this. Maybe it was some kind of birthday-related insanity, maybe she was just dumber than she gave herself credit for. No fool like an old fool, she supposed bitterly. 

When her fingers had pruned to the point that her fingernails were starting to split at the tips, she finally climbed out of the shower and dried herself off. Thirty minutes in the bathroom and she'd put herself back together into a smooth-edged political operative, ready to take on the media at a moment's notice, at least on the outside. Inside... she didn't know what she felt, but it was too many things, and they were all crashing into each other. She couldn't deal with all of it on her own. Against her better judgment, as so many things had been this past twenty-four hours, she picked up the phone and dialed. When it was answered, she just said, “Toby?” 

He recognized her voice. “Hey, CJ.” He'd called her that all through their campaign together, was still trying to get her to adopt it. A stronger and more memorable name, he'd called it, but she couldn't get used to the idea. “What's going on? Are you still in Washington?” 

“Yeah,” she told him, swallowing hard. “I think I made a big mistake...”


End file.
